C'est La Vie
by N. Aepic Fael
Summary: Honestly, Harry just wanted to live a happy life. Was that so hard? After becoming Master of the Death, he decides to go redo his life - just so he can be happy again. HP/NT/FD/BL
1. Chapter 1

On a certain day at the Dursley's, young Harry Potter woke up with a headache. Grimacing, he touched his scar, and found it covered it blood. Remembering the particularly brutal bullying of last night, he sighed and began to wash it off.

As he cleaned himself of the dried blood, his weariness turned to anger. Why did he, a boy who did absolutely nothing to offend anyone, have to deal with this? It was manageable that he managed to scrape some food for himself, and that his cupboard could be locked from the inside. But the beatings? What did he ever do to warrant that?

Fuming, he didn't notice that his wound had opened up again, nor his right eye changed from its emerald green hue to crimson red. At first, he thought nothing of it. However, it didn't take long for him to notice the blood that was leaking out of his wound was now hovering in the air.

He gasped. Though he was six, common sense told him that when things that shouldn't fly just happened to float in the air, something was going on. He swiped his hand to the side and the blood followed the motion.

"Whoa," the boy whispered. He pushed his hand forward and swirled his finger around, the blood mimicking his motions. Taking a risk, he clenched his eyes tight and let more blood flow as he dug into the wound with a rock.

He whimpered at the pain, but it slowly subsided and when he opened his eyes, Harry found there was a lot more blood to work with. Testing something, he mimicked the motion of a chop with his hand.

"Ah!"

The resulting action caused the blood to suddenly cut through what was in the general direction of the chop - in this case, it was his table. It seemed to solidify, sharpen, cut, and destabilize all in a fraction of a second. harry blinked before he gave a quiet cheer. His happiness was short-lived, however, as he suddenly felt extremely tired. Instinctively, he touched his scar, and the blood returned to the wound, sealing it and the pain subsided, thought he exhaustion had not.

Feeling a sudden urge to drink some orange juice or eat a cookie, Harry stumbled out of the cupboard, slightly paler than before but with a satisfied look on his face. He thought maybe, just maybe, he could have some fun for once.

* * *

Professor McGonogall was stunned by what she had witnessed.

She had been doing a monthly check in Harry Potter, against Dumbledore's advice, and she witnessed Harry utilizing wandless magic.

That in itself was awe-inspiring for the professor, who knew that without the focus of wand, many underage wizards would end up causing calamnities. Potter, however, seemed to be controlling his blood with ease.

Blood.

She has never heard of such magic that relied on the blood of the wielder as its energy. No doubt it must have been a Dark Arts magic, but where in Merlin did Potter learn to do so?

She watched with fascination as Harry used his blood to float a ball near the other child and drop the sphere, them quickly returning the blood back to himself to seal the wound. The victim looked around in confusion and accused his friend of doing so, much to the latter's confusion.

And the boy was only eight.

"With his father's love of pranks and his mother's wisdom," she wondered, preparing to return to Hogwarts. "He is sure to do great things. Amusing, yes, but great."

She wondered if she should report this to Dumbledore, but decided against it. Her better judgement warned of ulterior motives, and she'd be damned if something were to happen to the boy.

* * *

"Alright, boy," hissed Vernon. "No funny stuff, understand? This is Dudley's special day, and if everything goes fine, we might even treat you a little on your birthday, though don't expect too much. Mess up, however, and I swear you'll spend your birthday in chains."

Harry nodded. He had gotten used to the threats by now, though he did make the effort to give a terrified facade in order to not provoke his uncle anymore. He must have satisfied Vernon, who grunted and let the boy enter the car.

At the zoo, while Dudley and his friends ran around looking at animals, Harry just sat in front of a snake.

"Wow, your life must really suck, huh?" he asked.

To his surprise, the snake roused up and nodded at him.

"You ... you can understand me?" Another nod.

"Do you miss your family?" At this, the snake jerked it's head to the side. Harry looked in that direction and saw that the snake was born in captivity.

"That must suck, being locked away your whole life. I mean, that's what I deal with too, but at least I get to run around sometimes. Is there anyway you can help?"

The snake looked at Harry and flicked its tongue before leaning its head close to the glass. Harry hesitatingly reached out and touched the glass, just where he would have met the snake. Unfortunately for him, the glass was between the two.

Thinking of this made Harry angry. He felt that it was wrong to lock away animals to be teased and made fun of, without any regard for their own feelings. He felt a hot feeling inside of him and decided to try something. He darted his eyes around to see if there was anyone looking, before taking out a razor and cutting into the flesh between his thumb and his index finger. With a supply of blood available now, he used it to cut a hole cleanly through the glass, just so it could let the snake out without being noticed.

Upon seeing this mode of freedom, the snake slithered out of its compound. "Thankssss," it hissed before silently slithering out of the area. Harry quickly replaced the cut portion and walked away from the section, awaiting the screams that would arise.

* * *

Overall, the day went rather well for Harry. No one could prove he was the culprit, so his uncle and aunt had no evidence against Harry. The result was Dudley got the scare of his life, while Harry enjoyed a nice evening in his cupboard, idly swirling blood around.

He would have found his gift weird, even horrifying, but then he thought of there possibilities. By now, he could manipulate the blood into objects, although he still ran the problem of getting extremely exhausted whenever he was finished.

When he fell asleep, he was surprised to see an older version of himself looking back at him.

"Hello, Harry," smiled Not-Harry. "It's nice to meet you."

Harry blinked. "Should I be panicking, shouting, or listening quietly?"

Not-Harry laughed. "Ah, I remember being young. You're free to do as you please, though I'd prefer if you listened."

"Go on, then."

"Right, well, put it simply ... bah, screw this cliched crap. I won't go into the whole " _I'm you from the_ _future_ " stuff, since I'm guessing you've figured it out by now." Not-Harry then proceeded to explain to Harry what would happen in the future.

"Wait, hold up," stated Harry, as Not-Harry was about to go into the events of the Battle of Hogwarts. "This whole time-travel thing ... didn't you say that you weren't allowed to meet up with your past self?"

Not-Harry sighed. "Yes, well, that's the usual case, but you'd be surprised at what can happen when circumstances align themselves. In this case, we've remedied the problem simply by creating a new universe."

"What?! And wait, who's we?"

"Death. You'd be surprised at the lengths she's willing to go to to please her master. And yeah, we decided simply to wipe away out universe and create yours. Before you say anything, though, I'd like you to understand this: a young boy, who is not even legally allowed to emancipate himself from his abusive guardians has the world's most treacherous sociopath set out to kill him. Over the course of many, many trials, he succeeds in banishing the murderer and avenge his parents' deaths. You'd think the world would give him a rest, don't you think? Hah, no. Albus Dumbledore, who I once thought to be the greatest man alive, took most of the credit - _even while dead._ Every rescue, every good deed I did, was portrayed under his name. Anything not credited to him was given to Ron. The person I was engaged to, Ginny, and her family - or well, most of it anyways; i still respect George, but that's beside the point - they used me as a means to achieve fame and prestige. I wasn't made aware of the fact that I was being given love potions on a daily basis until a friend was visiting and told me his suspicions. You have no idea how _maddening_ it was, that I was yet to live as controlled as before. And then there were all the deaths ..."

At this Not-Harry faltered, and Harry did not press for details. "Well, Future-me, what exactly has changed?"

"Bah, I'm not even a future version of you, more like an AU version, but that's irrelevant. Well, for one, you have knowledge of what will happen in the future, so I heavily expect you to fix them. And another thing is the whole blood magic thing. Yeah," he stated, taking a sharp breath. "I don't know why, I don't really care, but it did the job. Everything's changed now, meaning that you can fix things."

Harry mulled all of this over. He was still 10 years old, and this was a lot for him to take in. "Say I believe you, and all this comes true. How will I know what decisions to make?"

"My memories will be merged with yours. Also, if further advice is needed, I'm sure Death will help."

* * *

Once Harry woke up, he blinked before giving a grin. "Oh man, it's good to be back."

' _Now,_ ' he wondered. ' _If what I remember is correct, today is the day that the letters should start arriving. However, knowing that things probably changed cause fuck it, I'd expect a visitor. But_ who?'

As Harry was cooking breakfast, he heard the thundering voice of Petunia tremble with fury as she opened the door to a visitor.

"You!"

Quickly finishing up, Harry set breakfast at the table and peeked to find that Aunt Petunia was talking to an elderly woman in robes. His eyes widened as he saw who it was.

"Yes, Petunia. It is I. I am here to take young Harry to Hogwarts."

"Good riddance, too! You and your freakish ... kind, leaving us with a freak to look after! I was ready to kick the brat out if the house if you didn't pick him up."

"Now, Mrs. Dursley, we've had this discussion with Dumbledore before. Despite any ill-will towards the Potter's they-"

"Are still my kin," she sneered. "Tell me ... McGonagall, was it? You think kin means a single shit to me? This ... freak," she spat out. "Is the very reason my husband and I could not have our second child. No longer could we support another child, since he was foisted on us!"

McGonagall listened to this rant in silence and waited for her to finish. "If so, I trust you have no objections to him leaving now."

"Potter!" she screeched. "Pack your stuff and get out! I don't ever want to see you here again!"

Once Harry had left the house, he feigned curiously at McGonagall. "I assume you are a professor?"

"That is correct, yes. And we will be getting your stuff soon. However, I would like to ask you something."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"I have seen it before, but would like to confirm it ... Can you use blood magic?"

Harry did not answer, instead he cut himself and swirled his blood around.

"Yes ... In that case, we may need to please a personal request to Ollivanders. And also, dear, I think it would be best if you did not tell anyone about this."

"Why not, Professor?"

"It is a rare gift, a symbol of dark magic and darker times. Many people would shun you for this, since they can't understand it themselves. However, you may, in your free time, come to my class when I am not teaching and I would be glad to help you refine your skill."

"Thank you, Professor. But um ... where will I stay?"

At this, McGonagall gave a pause before coming up with a solution. "How about ... you stay with me? It gets rather lonely in my house, and I could use the time to help you out." At this, Harry broke into a huge smile.

"Thank you!"

* * *

"So where are we going?" asked Harry, as McGonagall brought him to Diagon Alley, hiding under a cloak so he wouldn't be recognized.

"We're buying your stuff. However, we need to first get your money. And to do that, we'll be going to Gringotts." At this, Harry nodded and the two walked wordlessly to the bank.

' _Hmm,_ ' mulled over Harry. ' _I remember that Dumbledore used to take funds out of my account for 'personal uses.' It'd be preferable to put an end to it as soon as possible.'_

"May your enemies fall before you," stated McGonagall.

"And may your coffers flow with gold, professor. Tell me, what brings you here, with a child no less?" answered the teller.

"I am here to bring young Harry Potter to his family account."

"A Potter? Well in that case, do you have his key?" McGonagall searched for it, but was unable to find it. "Forgive this old witch, but I appear to have lost it."

"Not a problem, or at least, not a major inconvenience. I assume the boy is not afraid of blood?" At this, McGonagall gave a slight smirk. "Oh, I assure you, he is most comfortable around it."

Once Harry gave his finger to be pricked, blood dropped onto a cloth which suddenly changed color.

"Well, he is certainly a member of the Potter family," agreed the goblin. "Now, Master Pot- _what in the name of Ragnuk is that?!_ " The goblin was startled once he saw Harry manipulate the blood back to him.

"Oh, sorry?" Harry apologized, uncertain of whether he had offended the teller. "It's just that, I wanted to seal this with as little blood lost as possible."

"A blood user, Professor McGonagall," breathed out the teller. "Even among non-human beings, beasts, and non-beings, it is quite a rare gift. You don't suppose he might have the blood of Morgana in him, do you?"

"Well, considering how only her descendants are capable of manipulating blood, I would think so. I am inclined to believe that would make him heir to the House of le Fay."

"It would appear so. And judging by how you keep eyeing the clock, I assume you are on official Hogwarts business?" At this, McGonagall stiffened. "Yes, Dumbledore asked me to retrieve something from Vault 713."

"We will send another goblin to attend to you, professor. I must deal with Master Potter privately." And at that, the teller led Harry into the vaults below.

"First, Master Potter," began the goblin. "I'd like to thank you for now interrupting my conversation with McGonagall. While I must apologize for taking so long to attend to you, you understand that she has a ... priority status when she is on official business."

"That's alright," forgave Harry. "Now, there's something I'd like to talk about, particularly with you and your boss."

"Oh? What business does an eleven year old child have with Ragnok?"

"I'd rather not say now, sir, before you take offense and shove me down the pits. While I am developing wandless blood magic, I'm not at the level to make a rope." At this, the teller laughed.

* * *

"What business do you have with me, Master Potter?"

"I'd like for you to investigate into Albus Dumbledore's trust account that has been draining my main account."

Ragnok's eyes narrowed at that. "I see. A goblin shall be dispatched immediately. Anything else?"

"What do you know of horcruxes?"

...

"So," breathed out Ragnok. "The Mad One has returned. And he's been so depraved as to create one of those ... things," he spat out.

"He unintentionally made one involving my scar. I don't suppose you can remove it without killing me?"

Ragnok snorted. "Please. Human souls are so fickle and fragile, all we need is a certain weapon and a team of highly skilled healers, though from what I've heard you can do with your blood, the latter isn't required. We can loan you a needle filled with Nundu pestilence, which can easily corrode the horcrux away, free of charge."

"Many thanks, my friend."

Mere seconds later, a needle appeared filled with completely with a clear liquid.

"They pestilence, is of course, highly diluted," explained Ragnok. "No fool would ever administer undiluted Nundu poison for any reason."

Harry stared at the needle in bewilderness before shrugging and plunging it into his scar.

His screams echoed through all of Gringotts for the next few minutes, terrifying those who were worried about their bank credit.

Once the ordeal was over, Harry was left hunched over on the floor gasping in pain.

"Didn't seem very pleasant," smirked Ragnok. This resulted in a light glare from Harry, who eventually stood up, although shakily.

"Now ... can you tell me what assets I have?"

"Well, you are the current heir of the le Fay fortune, as well as the heir of the Potter fortune. Additionally, upon research into your bloodline, it appears that you are heir to the Peverell fortune as well. This bloodline is shared with the Gaunt family, however due to their large history of debts as opposed to the excellent credit credit of the Potter bloodline, we entrust the fortune to you."

"Whoa ... and how much is in each?"

"Well, we disabled the trust fund, which was illegally opened if anything, and compensated you accordingly. The result is the Potter fortunes and the Peverell fortunes contain several hundred thousand galleons each. However, the Morgana fortune hold hundreds of millions, due to centuries of untouched interest. This is, of course, not including various other properties."

This caused Harry to blink. "Damn. You know what, I'll ask you about this later. I'd rather make a withdrawal for now."

"That sounded painful," remarked McGonagall once she met up with Harry again.

"Tell me about it," he muttered. "Nundu poison stings way more than I expected."

"And why," she demanded. "Would an eleven year old boy ever inject that into his self?"

At this point, Harry fell quiet, wondering if he should reveal the truth.

"Professor ... Can I tell you a secret?"

* * *

"I see."

McGonagall did not know how to respond to what Harry told her. By the time he had finished his tale, they had bought most of the stuff he needed for Hogwarts.

While what he said was logically plausible she still couldn't get over the fact that Dumbledore was such a manipulative bastard.

"Therefore," finished Harry. "I'd like for you to please keep this a secret from Dumbledore."

"Of course. Merlin knows what madness the man would do to get fame, if what you said was right."

By now, the pair had entered Ollivanders. "Harry," instructed McGonagall. ""You go on ahead. I'll go get you Hedwig as well as think of a way to deal with Albus."

Just as she left, Ollivander showed up. "Ah, Potter. I trust you are here for your wand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hmm ... strange. For some reason, something seems off. Mind telling me something about yourself, perhaps it would hp me think of a want for you."

"Well, I can control blood.". At this Ollivanders blinked.

"A descendant of Morgana, her heir no less. This calls for something unique."

...

"11 inches, holly, feather of a phoenix as the core, adorned with tooth of a vampire. As you use the tip to open up your flesh, it enhances itself as well by absorbing a little blood."

Harry took the wand, the third of which he had tried out today and nicked his arm. To his surprise, the blood that would normally have flowed down his arm was drained by the wand. He felt a massive rush of power that sent his heart racing, and when he gave the wand a swing, he destroyed the desk. "Sorry, sir," he apologized.

"It's quite alright, although ... curious."

Despite knowing what Ollivander was going to say, Harry decided to play long. "What's curious, sir?"

"I remember every wand I've made, and it just so happens that the phoenix whose feather resides in your wand happened to give another. However, seeing what the wielder of the wand did - extraordinarily terribly yet great things - I decided to add in the tooth of the vampire. Many people do not know this, Harry, but vampire fangs are extremely picky, a testament to the careful meals of their owners. By doing this, I had hoped, rather selfishly if I may add, that perhaps no one would be able to wield it the wand. And yet ... here you are.

"You are destined for great things, Harry. There has not been a blood user in centuries, especially not in Britain. I hope you can stay in the light, unlike ... him."

Harry nodded mutely, and paid Ollivander, giving his thanks in the process, and met up with McGonagall soon after, who had Hedwig by her side.

"It's strange," McGonagall stated. "She looked at me expectantly as if she was asking for me to take her away from Eeylops. At this Harry chuckled. "Yes, she does that sometimes."

"Now, child," she continued. "You have a full month before Hogwarts begins. I pray you will make good use of this time."

"I will, Professor. I refuse to let so many people die like before. And I refuse to make the mistakes from the past life."

"Oh, and one last thing, Potter."

"Yes, Professor McGonagall."

"Happy birthday."

* * *

During the month between his birthday and Hogwarts, Harry studied his books tremendously as well as practicing on his magic. He retained all knowledge as well as skill from his past life and worked ceaselessly to maintain it. McGonagall, for her part, allowed him to practice, although she was stunned when she saw him produce a fully-developed Patronus, as well as Apparate. The result was she bought him books on topics that he didn't know so much on: Potions, Creatures, and Transfiguration.

When the day arrived, McGonagall took Harry aside just before he entered Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

"Please stay safe," she urged. "I know that I will see you in Hogwarts, but you are the closest thing to a child to me. I've lost my husband before, I can't afford to lose you."

Harry hugged her back to comfort her. "I know, Professor. But, as they say ... I'm my father's son." With this, he waved her goodbye and went into the platform.

' _Why on earth did Molly just state the existence of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters?' he mused. 'That must be against the Statue of Secrecy._ '

As he settled into his his compartment, a person walked up to him.

"Mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is filled with idiots."

He looked up, and suppressed a gasp when he saw Hermione.

Back before this timeline, she had been, unknown to anyone until Harry broke it, been under the Imperius Curse by Ron. However, by the time she had broken out of it, she was emotionally fragmented and was left a hollow shell of her former self due to her inability to distinguish what was real or not anymore.

Despite his initial hesitation, he decided to become friends with her once more, seeing that she had done no real harm to him before.

"My name is Hermione Granger, what's yours?"

"Harry Potter." At this, Hermione's eyes widened.

"It's really you!"

"Yes."

Harry gave an inward smile as Hermione talked tirelessly with him, to which he answered once she stopped to breathe.

"Sorry, is anyone sitting here?" asked someone.

Harry looked at the speaker, who was a girl he recognized from Slytherin before but didn't know who. "Go ahead."

Unlike Hermione, the girl was more reserved and decided to immerse herself in a book instead of talking.

"My name is Hermione Granger, what's yours?"

"Daphne Greengrass. And you?"

Harry remembered now. She was the sister-in-law of Draco after the whole ordeal with Voldemort was over, aunt of Scorpius.

"Harry Potter."

Her eyes widened slightly but returned to normal almost instantly, causing Harry to smirk slightly. ' _I can see why she was put in Slytherin._ '

Just then, someone opened up the carraige.

"Does anyone know where Harry Potter is?"


	2. Chapter 2

**I guess some context will be needed to explain the story. The Weasleys are Death Eaters who take the place of the Blacks, the Blacks are considered the "blood traitors," and the Malfoys are still Death Eaters. However, they are considered the least loyal, and are estranged from the rest of the Death Eaters since they betrayed Voldemort. And yeah, due to this, Bellatrix never married.**

Harry snorted internally as he was greeted with Ron, but was surprised to see Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

"No, why?" At this, Ron deflated slightly, before lifting his nose in the air. "Ah well, I'm Ron Weasley, and this is Crabbe and Goyle. Let us know if you see him."

Harry shook his head and went back to looking outside.

"Why did you lie?" asked Hermione.

"He was being a prat." At this, Daphne let out a slight breath of amusement through her nose.

"But what about us?" asked Hermione. "Aren't we annoying you?"

"Nah, you guys aren't too bad. You're certainly not as rude as he was, just barging into out compartment."

"What's his deal anyways?" wondered Hermione.

"Death Eaters." At this, Harry and Hermione looked at Daphne.

"Pardon?" he asked.

"The Weasleys are Death Eaters; you know, the supporters of You-Know-Who. They've been lying low ever since his fall, but everyone framed they bought their way out of Azkaban. That's why they lack money. They're the reason why the Longbottoms are in St. Mungos. Most of the family is in Slytherin, though I heard that the older siblings rejected the family mentality and joined Gryffindor. As far as I know, only the younger two children listen to their parents. Would explain his arrogance."

' _So,'_ mused Harry. ' _This time, it's the Weasleys who put Neville's parents in the hospital. But what about the Blacks...'_

"You seem to know a lot about pureblood families. I've heard people talk about two others, the Malfoys and Blacks," lied Harry. He wanted to see what else had changed.

"Well, I come from one, so we're expected to know about each other," she replied with a hint of disgust in her tone. "Anyways, the Malfoys did support You-Know-Who, but rejected him shortly before his fall, so they're considered blood traitors. They're considered one of the few truly reformed Death Eaters. I've heard that the way they betrayed You-Know-Who was defying orders and protecting a group of Muggle orphans who were targeted for slaughter ... the head of the family ended up getting Order of Merlin, first class. As for the Blacks, they're considered blood traitors as well, since they're the only family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight that has never preached of Muggle Discrimination. I suppose your family would be considered blood traitors as well, Harry, since the Potter family was pure-blood ... until you were born."

The rest of the train ride involved some friendly conversation between an excited Hermione and an amused Harry, with a few comments by Daphne.

Once the train neared Hogwarts, Harry became serious. "Even if we get sorted into different houses, let's remain friends, alright?"

""Of course.""

* * *

"Firs' years! Firs' year, o'er here!" bellowed Hagrid. Harry couldn't suppress a grin when he saw the gamekeeper. Even if Hagrid was extremely loyal to Dumbledore, the half-giant was still a dear friend to Harry and he didn't know anyone more innocent than Hagrid.

"How yer doin', Harry?"

"Fine, thanks, Hagrid."

"Tha's nice. 'eard Professor McGonagall took ya in. Great woman, she is. Would'a done tha same maself, but ... well, whatever works."

"You said it."

At this, Hermione moved closer to Harry. "Who is he?" she whispered.

"A great friend."

"So," a voice rang out, as the group waited for McGonagall to show up. "It's true then. Harry Potter is here."

Harry looked at the direction and saw that it was Draco, who was alone. "Yeah, and you are?"

"Draco Malfoy. You'll find that there are certain idiot families in the area. Hope you don't make the mistake of befriending them." As he said this, he glanced distastefully at Ron, who was picking his nose. He shook his head and offered his hand out to Harry

Harry looked at where Draco was looking and smiled. He then took the hand and shook it. "Yeah, I don't care much for him either. You don't have anything against Muggle-borns or half-bloods, do you?"

Draco frowned, mildly offended. "Why should I? My family's proudest achievement is breaking off from those stupid pure-blood teachings and protecting Muggles from the Dark Lord." At this Harry's smile widened slightly.

"Just checking."

Soon after, the group was led inside by Professor McGonagall to be sorted. Harry didn't pay attention until Hermione was called up.

"Hermione Granger!"

Hermione looked at Harry in worry, but he gave her a reassuring smile. Sh took a deep breath and walked and put the hat on. After a few seconds, it roared out.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Again, Harry lost interest once more. He faintly remembered that Daphne and Draco were sorted into Slytherin, but that didn't concern him. Eventually he heard his own name called up.

"Harry Potter!"

The whole hall was silent as Harry stepped up to the hat and placed it on his head.

"Well, now," mused the hat. "Deja vu much?"

"Nice to see you again too," he replied quietly.

"I know that technically, this is the first time we've met, but judging from your memories ... well, let's leave it at that? You still want to go to Gryffindor?"

"Yeah, I want to avoid changing too much."

"Very well. I still stand by what I say when Slytherin would be great for you ... but I see your reasoning. GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry walked over to the cheering Gryffindor table, where he was hugged by an excited Hermione. He glanced at Daphne and Draco, who looked at him expectantly. He got their meaning and gave them a thumbs up, to which they nodded.

It was nice to have allies in distant places.

* * *

One thing that Harry enjoyed was how much of the past actually didn't change. In fact, he went through essentially what he had been through before, aside from the fact that Ron was no longer with them. He didn't mind, though, since Ron was a bit of an ass and besides, Neville was a much better companion.

"I'm surprised you'd want to associate with me," stammered Neville. "I mean, most people think I'm a Squib."

"Dude," replied Harry. "I'm sure you've got a lot of talent. Besides ... your wand doesn't seem to like you. Is it from someone else?"

"Yeah, it's me dad's. Gran decided it'd be better for me to get his wand, thinking it'll give me some courage."

"That's not how it works. That's not how any of this works at all."

"What do you mean, Harry?"

"The wand chooses the wielder, Neville, you can't just get someone else's wand and expect it to work for you. Go talk to your Gran about getting a new wand."

Neville sighed but nodded. "My Gran's gonna kill me ..."

Later, during Potions class, Harry caught Snape coldly eyeing him, but this time paid no mind to it, knowing that it was because of his father.

He was, however, intending to do something about it. After answering all the questions correctly, he was surprised to find that he had earned Gryffindor 10 points, but upon seeing Snape's face knew that it was out of duty as opposed to genuine kindness.

After class, Harry walked up to Professor Snape.

"Professor." Snape turned around and stared coldly at Harry. "What is it, Potter?"

"I would like to request Veritaserum on me?"

Snape blinked before his eyes narrowed. "And what makes you think that I would waste this on a first year student?"

"Because you would refuse to believe anything else I'd say."

"Fair enough," Snape agreed, and proceeded to get the potion. "Now, you best pray that you don't waste my time, else that's 150 points from Gryffindor."

Once the three drops were administered, Harry began to speak out his knowledge of the future, truthfully answering any questions of veracity by Snape.

* * *

Once Harry was finished, Snape had to sit down.

"Who else knows?"

"The goblins of Gringotts and Professor McGonagall."

"Not Dumbledore?"

"Dumbledore," sneered Harry. "Is nothing more than a manipulative fool who ended up getting extraordinarily lucky. He never destroyed the Sorcerer's Stone, giving him the ability to live forever, faked his own death while using you as a pawn, and lived comfortably leeching off my bank money."

"I see ... don't you worry that the future might be changed?" asked Snape out of concern.

"Oh, undoubtedly. It's already began to change. However, I've been told that time is very resilient, and the core events will still happen: Quirrel will die, and I see Voldemort; the Basilisk will be subdued as will the diary be destroyed; Sirius and Buckbeak shall be freed; I win the Triwizard Tournament; I learn of the prophecy; Dumbledore SHOULD die, and you be instated as Headmaster; and finally, Voldemort dies, and we're finally freed. From that point on, time will have fluxed so much that it is impossible to determine what will happen next."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Harry shrugged. "You're a good man, who just happened to have a string of bad luck, one moment after another. Also, I'd really prefer to enjoy Hogwarts without you hating on me."

Snape shook his head and sighed before looking up again. "Thank you, Harry, for giving me your trust. You'd best run along to your next class now. Clearly, you have your mother's kindness."

After Harry left, the days passed by without much incidence. He passed all of his courses with flying colors (namely because he had been through them before), and was the only person to successfully transfigure something on his first try, which earned Gryffindor 50 points and the idolization of Hermione.

Hiding in the library to escape Hermione's questions on his expertise, he was surprised to find Tonks was studying.

' _Oh yeah, she should be in her last year by now_ _,'_ he wondered. ' _Is it worth skipping ahead and meeting her now? Then again, I don't see why not.'_

"Hey," said Harry, grabbing her attention. "Do you mind helping me out with this section?"

Tonks looked up from her book and her eyes widened briefly whens he saw who it was, but it was for a fleeting moment though. "Sure," she said. "What do you need?"

Once Harry showed her his Transfiguration homework, she spluttered, "Aren't you in your first year?"

"Yeah, why?"

She laughed. "Kid, this stuff is for seventh years. You're either a natural, or McGonagall wants you to fail."

After the two conversed some more, they noticed that it was time for them to return to their common rooms.

"See you when you're free, yeah?" asked Tonks.

"Sure," replied Harry before realizing that he needed to know her name to keep up the facade. "Oh yeah, what's your name?"

"Call me Tonks."

* * *

"Flying is a noble sport," declared Madam Hooch. "I have been teaching first-years for ages now, and I'll be damned if I don't get you into the air by the end of the year.

"Now, hold your hand over your broom and say 'Up!'"

Both Gryffindor and Slytherin houses were there for flying classes, and they did as they were told. Most brooms did nothing, several twitched, a few jumped into the air and fell back down, but Harry's flew straight into his hand.

"Well done, Potter," Madam Hooch remarked. "10 points to Gryffindor. Now hurry up, the rest of you," she barked out.

Slowly, the others were able to get their brooms to rise as well, though for a few still struggled to get the broom to comply, particularly Ron and Neville.

"Now mount your broom, but DO NOT, and I repeat, DO NOT lift off until I say so!"

Everyone did as they were told, but Neville's broom suddenly went flying. Despite Madam Hooch's demands that he land, he was unable to do so.

Harry took this as his cue to launch into the air, despite Madam Hooch's protests. Narrowly avoiding a careening Neville, he took a hold of the boy and lifted him off the broom, landing him safely before zooming off to grab the wildly flying broom. He flew around the school, dodging spikes and zooming through arches, where he finally grasped the broom, which pacified under his touch.

"Excellent job, Potter," Madam Hooch remarked. "Although I would have preferred if you -" She was cut off when Ron, having seized Neville's Remembrall after the boy went flying and green with jealousy after seeing Harry's success, threw it into the air and muttered a spell that made ti go flying wildly around, terrorizing the students before it flew out and about.

Harry used this as an excuse to go flying again, taking in the thrill of flight while chasing down the rogue sphere. Just before the Remembrall smashed itself against McGonagall's window, Harry snatched it and did a 180, narrowly avoiding collision himself. He flew down triumphantly and handed Neville his Remembrall with a small sense of pride.

"Excellent!" declared Madam Hooch. "20 points to Gryffindor for superb flying! And as for you, Weasley," she spat out, looking at Ron with fury. "Hexing as well as disrupting my class? You can forget about flying lessons until the holidays are over with, and you will receive detention during that suspension! Now Harry, come with me."

Harry followed Hooch, and felt he had a feeling where this was going, though he kept a facade of ignorance.

"You're father was an excellent Quidditch player," she stated, as they walked through the corridors. "It's a shame he never took up Quidditch playing as a profession, but ... ah, McGonagall!"

The two witches saw each other and immediately began discussing over Harry's flying skills. Harry caught McGonagall winking at him and smiled, knowing that she had managed to convince Madam Hooch to allow him, a first year, to participate in Quidditch as a Seeker.

"You are excused from the rest of my classes," declared Madam Hooch. "In return, I want to see excellent performance in your Quidditch games, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," replied Harry.

* * *

Time passed by rapidly soon Halloween was around the corner. Harry had used the time to deepen his friendships as well as simply enjoy himself. In particular, he used the time to connect with Tonks more, knowing that they had less than a year before she would graduate.

On the night before Halloween, Harry fell asleep and found himself in pitch-black emptiness.

"Hello, master," a voice rang out behind him. He turned around and saw a woman clothed in black robes.

"Hello, Death."

"My, I'm surprised that you still remember me; after all, you haven't seen me in so long."

"I could never forget you. After all, you're the reason all this is possible. Wait, why am I still your master, I don't have the Deathly Hallows anymore."

"I kept my memories from the previous life, and no one else has managed to wield all three Hallows."

"I see," Harry mulled. "That's pretty fortunate."

"Mmm," she sighed. "We need to talk."

"Let me guess, I changed something significantly?"

"Well, obviously. But it's more than that. First, produce a Patronus."

Harry blinked then shrugged. He picked up his wand, and thought of how happy his life at Hogwarts was, and then yelled, " _Expecto Pratronum!"_

Harry expected the same stag to appear, but to his shock it was a Nundu. It roared, and light curled around hi's jaw, like the breath of a real one.

"What ... what's this about, Death?"

"It's because you injected the Nundu decay into your scar, destroying the Horcrux. Patronuses can change, but it must be a seriously life-altering event to do so: in this case, using something so potent to essentially kill yourself was enough. Which brings me to my next point.

"By all means, you should be dead, though I foresaw that you'll most likely try to destroy the Horcrux prematurely before Voldemort bound his blood to you, and thus gave you Morgana's Gift. Once the decay killed you, it was expelled out of your body via your blood, which was instinctively done due to your mother's sacrificial charm. Consider this a lucky miracle, though master, since I doubt you'll be able to pull it off again. It was no small amount of effort to enable the sacrificial charm to save your life, and the most it'd do now is prevent Quirrell from touching you. Again, lucky you."

Harry snorted at Death's sarcastic tone, but internally was troubled. Perhaps he should avoid changing any more than he had already done.

"There's a final matter to discuss this evening, master."

"What is it about?"

"It's about Tonks."

At this, Harry stiffened slightly. "What about her?"

She snorted softly. "Don't play dumb, Harry. We both know that you're developing a crush on her."

"And if I am?" he said defensively.

"There's nothing wrong with that," she reassured him. "In fact, you befriending her early is saving her life."

At this, his eyes widened. "Really?!"

"Yeah, back then it was Bellatrix who killed her. In this timeline, Bella never married, since the Blacks were pro-Muggles. However, if further action isn't taken, she'll still die - this time by Molly Weasley's hand."

"How can I prevent this?"

"Date her. Seduce her. Marry her. Have her fall in love with you instead of Remus. Her future will be so distorted that it will be certain that she will not die in that battle."

"... I'll do it."

Death smiled. "That's so sweet of you," she giggled, patting his cheek. "Of course, there are other complications along your life, but that's in the future."

"Wait, what?"

"Goodbye, master! I'll see you tomorrow."

At this, Harry woke up. He groaned, rubbed his eyes, and checked the clock; it was 6:30. He still had half an hour before he would go down for breakfast. And several hours before the encounter with the troll.

More importantly, he had someone to ask out.

* * *

"You okay Harry?" asked Hermione, as they were eating breakfast. "You're staring at the Hufflepuff table."

"Hmm?" he asked, as he snapped out of his stupor. "Oh, it's nothing." Hermione's eyes narrowed and looked at where he was staring before holding back a laugh.

"You can't be serious," she giggled. "You fancy one of them?"

Harry blinked before shrugging. "And if I do?"

She struggled to contain her laughter. "Harry, those girls are in their seventh year. Even if you are the Boy-Who-Lived, you think they'll pay you any attention?"

Harry shrugged again. "Only one way to find out." He got out of his seat and to Hermione's shock walked over to where Tonks was.

"Hey Tonks," he called out, surprising those around her. She replied with a smile.

"I take it you want to leave this dull place?" she asked.

"Merlin's Beard, yes."

"C'mon," she grinned. "I'll show you where I go when I'm bored."

As Harry left the Hall, he spied Hermione, who had a gobsmacked expression on her face and laughed internally.

"So," began Tonks. "Mind telling me what that was about?"

"I don't know what you mean," he denied.

"Harry," she snorted. "I've known you for a while now. You've always got something on your mind. You would never ask me to leave the Hall without something on your mind."

"Guess, then," he declared. "What can a small and weak first year such as myself have to do with a great and powerful seventh year like yourself?" he smirked.

She thought for a bit before her eyes widened a bit.

"No. No way," she began. "You can't ser- ... you actually fancy me?"

He gave a small smile. "Yeah, I do. I actually do."

She sighed, covering her face with her hands and sitting down on the steps. "Harry ... we-we can't. You're a great guy, and you're amazing and all but ... this just can't happen. I'm sorry, I really am."

He blinked, his smile frozen on his face. A lump developed in his throat, just like when he was rejected by Cho during the dance. He was glad for the Occlumens training he received in his previous life with Death, or he might have become an emotional mess, especially with puberty around the corner. He felt tears begin to gather around the corner of his eyes, but he willed them to disappear. He couldn't do anything about his reddening eyes, though.

' _Relax, Harry,'_ murmured Death in his mind. _'It's natural for her to feel like this. Let her explain herself and I'll guide you along on how to remedy this. First, ask her why.'_

"Why not?" Although he was suspicious of Death's advice, Harry's mind had gone blank after being rejected and he couldn't think how to resolve the situation himself.

"It's just ... the age gap and all that ..."

' _Tell her you don't mind her age. Ask what else is on her mind.'_

"I don't care about the age gap," Harry declared. "It's not enough for me to give up on you."

"Fine," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes before resuming a serious tone. "Why me?"

"Huh?"

"I see you hanging out with others, and you seem so happy with them. What makes me so special?

' _Let her know why you love her, and hold nothing back. You're on your own now, Master.'_

"You're smart, smarter than any student I know. You were there to help me with McGonagall's insane homework when no one else could."

"So you love me simply because I happened to be at the library that night?" she asked skeptically.

"You've got an amazing personality. You make me happier when I'm near you compared to anyone else."

"Please. I'm crass, annoyingly blunt, and I can't read the mood for shite. You can't fool me that easily, Harry."

"You're beautiful. You really are. I've quite honestly met anyone else as attractive as you."

She scoffed, though Harry saw that she had stiffened a little. "You wanna know a secret?" And then her features and hair morphed into those that Harry remembered from the past life.

"I'm a Metamorphagus, kid. I can change my appearance at will. You're in love with a passing image, that's all. This is the real me."

"... You're still beautiful."

She blinked, aghast. "Sorry?"

"I still find you beautiful, even without transformations."

"You're ... you're kidding, right? I can change myself to look like a model, give myself a huge rack, manipulate any part of me at will ... and you'd still prefer the real me?"

"Yes."

Tonks stared at Harry and blinked. He noticed that she had formed a few tears at the edges of her eyes.

"Sorry, give me a moment," she sighed, putting her head in her hands once more.

"You know," she started. "I've always dreamed of meeting you. Your name was a legend, and as a kid my parents would tell me stories of how You-Know-Who died. I was always amazed at how you had destroyed the Dark Lord, and dreamed of the day I'd see you.

"I had wondered, a kid's fantasy, honestly, how I could get your attention. It was a fleeting childhood crush moment, and all, but ... I just wondered if you'd just come up one day and we could have a talk and all. Nothing serious, just enough for me to finally meet the boy my parents spoke so highly of.

"When you came to me that night, I was ... _gratified_. You don't know how amazed I was that me, an old hag compared to you, managed to snag your attention. It was just ... _strange._

"Do you know what a burden it is to be able to turn yourself into anything? Sure, I can change my appearance and all, but after a while, people start to like you for who you become, not who you are. This look, the real me ... I never made much friends looking like this. it was the other self, the one with pink hair and a celebrity-like face, that made so many friends. You honestly don't know how much it means for me that you don't care what I look like.

"As we talked over time, I saw you less of an idol and more of a human, and that made me happy, sure. But romance? I feel like a cradle robber when I'm near you, kid."

Harry took this in silence and walked over to her once she was finished. He hugged her tightly.

"I don't mind," he murmured. "I'll still love you just the same."

"... Fine," she sighed. "I can't believe I'm doing this, but we can try and see how this works out. However, no one can find out."

"Too late," replied Harry, almost amused, as he pointed to a spying Hermione. She looked at the fleeing figure and groaned.

"Another thing," she said, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him in. "I'm a bit possessive, so don't you dare go running off with someone else once we start to get serious, okay?"

He grinned. "Of course."

 **And yeah, I know that I seem to be rushing things. It's mostly cause I'm trying to go as quickly as possible without ruining this fic to the fourth story, where things will start to diverge from canon (although I'm going to change a lot beforehand anyways).**


	3. Notice

**Note: As of now, I've lost any and all dedication to writing. Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to quit, but I'm sick of life in general.**

 **I have very few true friends, one of whom is BookPrincess34. She is the sole reason why I am remotely sane. The rest of my "friends" use me, and I must admit that I am not exaggerating. Every day, there is always that one friend who praises how I am the sole reason they are passing the course. Nothing more. I have little, if any, interaction with them whatsoever outside of providing them with help. In fact, I have gone to events with my coworkers more than I have with my friends.**

 **My family is a pain in the ass. Quite frankly, they don't love me. They mock my decisions in life, almost grounded me for life when they discovered me writing fics, and mentally and emotionally abuse me. I'll be honest, before I met BP, there was not a single night where I didn't cry myself to sleep. They hide their disgust at me behind faux concern, giving me a "choice" of what I can do, when there is only one option available. Even if I am allowed to choose, they go ahead and control my life as they please. Beatings have happened before, but ever since the CPS investigated us due to a (gratifying) mistake made by my sister, they have stopped.**

 **To them, I am the bane of their ideals. I am not handsome, my face is riddled with scars that my father's genes provided. I am not tall enough, since I squandered my growing period staying up trying to impress them with my grades. I am not smart enough, since they always have a friend whose child is doing better than me. I am not strong enough, since I have a thin frame. To them, I am the amalgamation of everything that could possibly go wrong. They make no attempt to hide their disappointment anymore, openly shaming me in public and scorning me for hours. My home is no longer safe for me.**

 **My only respite comes from talking to BP. Because of her, I have someone willing to back me up. Because of her, I have enough courage to not run away from home again and walk through the gate. Because of her, I know someone who can sympathize with me, since she has been through worse. Because of her, I am genuinely happy.**

 **We talk about random things, we talk about a collab fic, we talk about each other, etc. It matters not the topic, but the fact that we are talking together is enough to ease our burdens. She has her demons, I have mine. Though we may end up crossing the line with each other occasionally, the knowledge of just how much shit we've been through allows us to move past this. In other words, she's basically my best friend at this point.**

 **It is disheartening how my parents are almost antithetical to her. To them, I am the sole cause of all that is wrong. It matters not if someone else made a mistake, I am always the first to be blamed, the harshest punished, the last one to be forgiven or apologized to. To them, I don't deserve justice.**

 **They insult me. They belittle me. They mock my dreams after demanding I tell them. They punish and scold me for doing what I am told to do. They humiliate me for trying to help out. They sneer at my attempts to fit their ideals, stare coldly at my attempts to make them proud, and mock me for being a useless son when I try to make them happy.**

 **What hurts the most is that, deep down, a little innocent, broken, naive little piece of me is still waiting for them to say that they love me, that I have done something right in my life. To this day, I'm still waiting for a single genuine compliment, not a forced one in front of guests or teachers. To this day, I'm still waiting for them to accept that I cannot fit their ideals, that I am my own person. To this day, I'm still waiting for them to say I have made them proud.**

 **To this day, I'm still waiting for them to consider me as a family member, not a fallback plan in case their lives become harder.**

 **The mature aspect of me understands that I am not a member of the family. I have accepted that I will never be more than a pawn in their eyes, a piece that can be used to make them rise up in their retirement age. To those who assume this is a misconception, know that they have even bluntly stated they have kept a record of how much I have caused them to spend, and expect me to pay it all off once I grow up, interest as well.**

 **The mature aspect of me understands that I will never be able to make them proud, no matter what I do. There will always be a someone earning more than me, someone looking better, someone smarter. Someone they wish was their son.**

 **I know that I am not alone in this. Many of people exist out there who deal with the same bullshit as I do. But for the sake of this note, just bear with my selfishness for a moment.**

 **Their treatment of me has warped my sense of reality. I am no longer capable of forming thoughts without imagining irrational futures which I know can never happen. In fact, I can't even tell as I'm typing this whether I'm focused on my words, or if my mind is wandering off to some fantasy to escape this dead world.**

 **I suppose it isn't fair to blame them for everything. I consider myself an abomination, with their help of course. In fact, part of the reason for my hatred against myself stems from something similar to a short story I once wrote, titled Is It Wrong?  
**

 **/The following short story was written based on events that occurred in my life. Believe it or not, nothing written is coincidental, and can be used to understand my situation further/**

 **Synopsis: A boy wants an older sister, but as time passes by, he thinks about the choice he made.**

 **Is it wrong?**

 **I'm a simple boy in your average high school. I have friends, family that supports me (when they're not criticizing me), a decent house, a person that I like, etc.**

 **I help out in my free time, I struggle with homework, and I get decent grades.**

 **I'm also incredibly selfish.**

 **Tell me, is it wrong for a person who has all this to complain? Especially in a world where millions of people can't get food or even time to think?**

 **Maybe. But I gotta ask something.**

 **Is it wrong for me to want something as simple as an older sibling?**

 **…**

 **Is it?**

 **Don't get me wrong, I know there's no way I'll ever get an older sibling by blood. But what about fraternal siblings?**

 **Is it too much for me to ask for someone to look after me, regardless of our differences? Is it wrong for me to want someone to rely on, a role model, an idol, someone who I see as a god or goddess?**

 **Tell me, is it wrong?**

 **I kinda stumbled through much of my life as a solitary kid. Don't get me wrong, I had friends, but I was always the third wheel, always the outsider.**

 **It's kinda awkward, you know. You know that your friends are trying to accommodate you, but you also know that you're not wanted.**

 **So you let them do as they want and watch from the shadows.**

 **Was I wrong to do so?**

 **One day, life changed for me when a family member came over to stay for a while. My cousin.**

 **I dunno how old she was. Hell, I don't even remember how old I was when I first met her. But hey, can't complain when she agreed to be my surrogate big sister.**

 **"Oh? Don't worry, just call me Sis!"**

 **…**

 **Yeah, I know. I'm weird. But really, is it wrong for me to want this?**

 **Sis was everything I wanted. She helped me out, played with me, comforted me when I cried, everything a little kid wants.**

 **To me, Sis was the first real friend I ever had.**

 **But all good things come to an end.**

 **After a month, Sis had to return back to her home. I can't describe how devastated I was.**

 **It's like … a clench in your chest. You know, kinda like heartbreak. Except not, since that would be incest and that's creepy, right? But … was it wrong for me to feel depressed if Sis was going to leave me?**

 **"Don't cry. One day, I'll be back!"**

 **No matter how hard my parents tried, I was always gloomy after Sis left. I felt hollow and bitter, as if no one would ever play with me again.**

 **One year later, Sis returned. I can't describe how happy I was.**

 **You have to understand. Sis was … the perfect person, in my eyes. Sure, it's kinda weird considering I'm a guy and all, but … I really did admire her. Never did I see her cry. Never did I see her weak. To me, she was a goddess.**

 **And yet, she still had to leave.**

 **As time passed by, to chances for me to see Sis grew smaller and smaller. Eventually, I had to confront the idea that I would have to move on.**

 **It's kinda cruel, really. What did I deserve to receive this? The first real friend I ever had, and I couldn't see her for more than a month or so.**

 **It got me thinking.**

 **Was it wrong for me to have such a selfish desire?**

 **After Sis left when I was in fourth grade, it wouldn't be until eighth grade that I would see her again.**

 **By then, I had made new friends. I had found people I could genuinely rely on, even if they were kinda weird. But that's fine. I'm weird too.**

 **When I saw Sis again, inwardly, I was overjoyed. I hoped that everything would be like it had been before.**

 **Why can't life ever be that simple?**

 **Why … just why?**

 **Sis no longer played with me. Sis no longer talked or even looked at me. Sis was always busy with something else.**

 **It was to be expected. Sis was an adult now. She had college to worry about, she was still human after all.**

 **Although my chest hurt when she left again, I gave that bitter smile I always gave when she smiled at me and said goodbye.**

 **That night, I cried again.**

 **Why? If Sis was going to visit, couldn't she at least acknowledge me? Why did she just ignore me for the week she was staying here?**

 **Wouldn't it have been better if she never came here?**

 **Was it wrong for me to wish I had never met her?**

 **I remember reading up on Freud's findings.**

 **A kid tends to fall in love with their mother or father figure due to the neglect of their real parent.**

 **That wasn't me, right?**

 **I mean, I don't think I'd ever really fall in love with Sis, and I doubt that I would consider my parents as neglectful but …**

 **Did I really love Sis? Maybe. She was the first person I knew I could trust, since parents were always the cold overlords what impassively judged your every move.**

 **It sounds kind disgusting thinking about it. Never mind the fact that she's my cousin, but I honestly thought of her as my sister.**

 **Is it wrong of me to think of her like that?**

 **It hurts to think about her.**

 **It hurts.**

 **I still refuse to believe that I fell for her. That's so wrong.**

 **…**

 **Is it?**

 **I mean, I get the whole thing about inbreeding and stuff, but is it that bad?**

 **But … what about her? Would she ever love me back?**

 **…**

 **I hate myself.**

 **I hate myself for ever being born. I hate how I can't be more popular. I hate how I can't be smart I hate how I can't be strong I hate how nobody likes me IhatehownomatterwhatIdoit'snevergoodenough.**

 **I hate it.**

 **But most of all, I hate how I met Sis.**

 **I wanted an older sister figure, and I ended up falling in love with her.**

 **Is it wrong?**

 **/End/**

 **As you can see, the protagonist (me) fell in love with his cousin, who is nicknamed Sis. Yes, I did fall in love my cousin, and yes she is (for some tradition that I don't understand) nicknamed Sis. Feel free to take a moment to rethink what possible horrendous character I could have, that I would ever fall in love with her.**

 **...**

 **I confessed to her a few months back, and she took it surprisingly well. Unsurprisingly, I was rejected. I expected as much. After all, the mere fact that we are cousins should be deterrent enough.**

 **It doesn't help that I've grown up convinced I was a useless piece of shit. Even as I confessed, I knew that I didn't deserve someone like her. Further information lies in this anonymous confession I once made in my school's confession page:**

 **"Okay, so before you guys immediately start despising me, hear me out.**

 **I've lived a fucked up life, though not as fucked up as some of my friends. I've been treated as a dog (I'm not joking, these kids would treat me like a fucking animal), publicly humiliated, and beaten. As a child, I've always wanted someone to look up to.**

 **That person was my cousin, who was several years older than me.**

 **Now, I bet you probably know how this post will end up, but please, hear me out. My cousin, she ... Fuck, I don't know how to describe her without doing her an injustice. She's, imo, one of the only people I truly care about, maybe even he only person I care about. She's like an angel, and she seemingly cares for me more than my parents do.**

 **She comes over to visit for the holidays often, and I don't know when it began, but I think it was when we were singing along to the radio in the car and she sang to the lyrics of ""Only Girl in the World"" or whatever. I began to fall in love with her.**

 **If you feel disgusted,you have every right to be, but again, please hear me out.**

 **It started as a crush. She was everything I dreamed to be: beautiful, talented, incredibly smart, so carefree and friendly ... It's hard to believe we're related. Me? I'm just your run of the mill Asian guy who has bad genes, average grades, and isolated in real life. To me, she was practically a goddess.**

 **As I grew older, that crush turned into love. She was practically the only thing I looked forward to during the holidays. By now, I had realized what incest was and why it was immoral.**

 **Guys, you have to understand the moral dilemma I was going through at the age of what, 12 or 13? Ever since, I've been crushed by guilt over my secret love for her and my conscience. I turned 16 this year, so put that into perspective.**

 **I think about a year or two ago, she found out maybe. She stayed a little more distant from me and interacted less with me. She still gave me a friendly smile whenever we met eye contact, though it looked a little strained.**

 **Feel free to judge all you want. Yeah, I'm a disgusting freak who should be outcasted or whatever. Trust me, I've contenolated suicide over this before and have attempted twice, and botched both attempts.**

 **So remember, if you think you have love life problems, at least you have a minor chance. Me? I'm a fucking joke. My face is ugly and riddled with scars, I'm slim but not fit, my eyes unnerve people (I've had kids cry just by making eye contact with me, warning glares from parents), and no one seems to tolerate my real personality, causing me to keep a facade up always."  
**

 **As you can tell, I fell hard for my cousin. However, the sheer guilt of this made me hate myself. I tortured myself mentally, trying to get rid of this from my head. In tandem with the emotional abuse I received...I'm not exactly the most stable person out there.**

 **Time passed and I still feel relatively hollow, but the weight was lifted off my chest. Kinda. The topic no longer makes me want to kill myself, nor do I lose sleep over it anymore. But the aftereffects remained: I lost my muse. The guilt and wretchedness I felt was what propelled me to write more as a stress reliever.**

 **So what does this mean for my stories? Well, they will take a LONG time before being updated. I'm still struggling to juggle school and my health, as well as making time to talk to BP. Who knows? Maybe I'll find my muse again. Until then, I don't expect much.**


	4. AN chat group

**Whichever story gets this AN will be continued. Will probably take forever to update, but will still continue.**

I recently joined a discord group called 50 Shades of Nerd. It's a group where I and other writers basically chat about random stuff as well as things about our stories. If you have nothing better to do, come join us to see what madness that I and a couple other writers and fans deal with, and maybe even contribute in.

Join using the code **RPDHxDC** (stolen from nutsofthechest because I'm an idiot and don't know how discord codes work).

If this code doesn't work or expires, let me know, and I'll lurk in chestnut's stories for a new code. Or, by then I'll understand how codes work and I'll make an invite code of my own.


End file.
